


A Taste of the Storm, Part 8

by Nightwing37



Series: A Taste of the Storm [8]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwing37/pseuds/Nightwing37
Summary: Marek is fighting for his life and the life of those he cares about...
Relationships: Female Guardian/Male Guardian (Destiny), Ghost & Guardian (Destiny)
Series: A Taste of the Storm [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909825





	A Taste of the Storm, Part 8

The punch and its sound rattled through the ravine behind Marek and past the ears of everyone around. The anger was burning in him. He was unwilling to die. Many Guardians were nonchalant about death. Some Warlocks even craved it so they could understand what was beyond the veil between life and the hereafter. Marek was as much a human as any Guardian could be. He feared death, but was fighting like a man possessed. By what you ask? Even he couldn’t give it a name. It was just inside of him, making his heart pump like a freight train. He stared at the Arkhon and smiled inside of his helmet.  
“That makes it nine.”  
“Mar…”  
Aurelia was shocked by his ferocity. When she learned about the different classes, Arcstriders were the more focused of the Hunters. They were the warrior monks; the ones who could fight like their life depended on it and focus like the world didn’t exist. Marek had crossed over into a different space. The emotions were beginning to rise inside of him. They weren’t going to overwhelm him this time. They were fueling him. They were driving him to go as hard as he was. The feelings of anger, rage, loss, frustration, and helplessness all rolled into one.  
“Dont worry Aurelia,” Both Feyla and Cid looked at her and comforted her as they both believed in him and what he was doing.  
“He is truly becoming the storm.”  
“I thought that was only something we warlocks could do?”  
“No. Any user of Arc energy channels the storm. Not only the lightning, but the thunder as well…”  
What Cid had stated was true at that very moment. The rest of the smaller units began to run at him and Marek became a typhoon to them. His fists connected to their bodies with speed and measured aim. He wasn’t swinging wildly, he was picking them apart with his moves. He was economical and forceful in every second of his motions. His hips rotating, muscles flexing, arms launching out towards all of his obstacles. He felt free. He felt like he could think. He felt like he could see through the moment and the problems. Each breath was a release. His fear of death wouldn’t leave him, but it was guiding him. Making him fight harder than he might have in any other circumstance. He then realized why things were different: Aurelia was here.  
As he slammed them over and over, his body began to glow with a brilliant Uranian blue. The lightning began to streak from his limbs as they flew through the air at their targets. The heat from all of this energy was also noticeable as Aurelia began to sweat a little under her helmet. He was moving like water and hitting them as hard as a boulder. As the last fist came down upon a broken and beaten Dreg, he Elites and the Arkhon prepared themselves for his onslaught. Marek slung his arm and leg back, unleashing his Arc staff. He stood and twirled it a few times before making forward movement. His progress was halted though by the plasma cannons and launchers for the priest and his allies.  
His staff twirling in front of him, Marek could feel the bombardment from the blasts pushing him back, but knew he needed to keep it up. He dug his heels in and swung his staff as fast as he could muster with every bit of his energy. The Fallen blasters began to sputter and fail, but their size was still a major consideration. His staf was good for clearing out mobs, but against a large target, he didn’t have anything he could muster…  
“A knife won’t jam. It won’t run dry. It won’t stop.”  
What kind of knife could take down that big of a target? Marek’s mind clicked and he dissipated his staff for a moment. The Priest and the Elites decided to try and use their size, thinking he had run out of Light to use against them. However, they were wrong. He reached over and brought the sword from out of the ground with a surge of power. The man bent his body and with a sudden rush brought the large blade down upon the closest elite with a metallic crash. The blade buried into the rock beneath its feet, blood running down the sides of it. It’s target had been sliced in half. The other elites and even the Arkhon had been shocked and pushed slightly back from the massive attack. It was at this moment that Marek turned to face those left on the patch of land.  
“There were four of you. Now there are three. I won’t stop until there is zero.”  
When the two elites and the Arkhon bellowed, claws displayed, Marek smiled. He knew they weren’t going to give and neither would he. He summoned every ounce of light in him and touched the blade with his hand. His body had taken a beating. His armor was stained and chipped. Scratches over everything. Half of his cloak had been ripped off. He ripped the other half off and tossed it aside as it was getting in the way. He didn’t want to miss a single swing. His body shifted as he lifted the blade from the ground and watched bolts of blue snap off of its edges. This would be his instrument.  
“Get ‘em Mar!”  
“Show them Hunter!”  
The small cries from his team was all the insistence he needed as he launched himself at them. The elites tried to stop him, but were brushed back with the wide swing he did. A quick push to the gut knocked the first one back, allowing him the chance to twist the blade and use it to smash broadside into the second. The Arkhon stepped back, before feeling the edge of the clif with its heel. Mar swung his fist, backhanding the elite he had just hit. Blood spattered across his glove, but it was going to take more. He held the larger blade for defense while sliding his knife from his belt. In a flash, like in a stormy night, the neck of the kneeling beast was opened. This smaller blade also burnt the air around it and crackled. He slid it back into his waist and spun, kicking its brother in the leg to bring it down.  
The Arkhon watched as this human had not only decimated his troops, but had now become something more wild. The blade of the human swung with such speed that it didn’t even see the slice that had tore apart its comrade. Being the only one left, it struck a defensive position, but was surprised when the human dropped the larger blade. Was he mad? Would he really attempt to deal with it head-on?  
Marek let the sword drop and took a second knife from his back. He always had it there just in case his other knife was misplaced or stuck in a different enemy. Both blades streamed with electricity and in a flash, they were being brought to bear on the flesh of the giant. First slashes to its legs, in order to bring it down a little closer to earth. Then a leap off a nearby wall allowed him to bury both blades into the shoulders of the hulking beast. Retrieving his blades, he stepped in front of it and gazed upon it as its breathing was labored.  
“I know you can understand me. You helped kill that boy in there,” Marek pointed over to the cliffside where the shuttle was still slightly smoking from the damage to it.  
“I can tell the ozone your blasters create when they impact. You sentenced someone to their death. So I will do the same to you.”  
Marek turned the blades to create almost a longer edge and used them to create a wave of arc energy that took the top of the Fallen clean off. As he breathed again, he could feel the energy he had left leave him. He had pushed his body to the edge. It had taken so much of his light to make the sword and his knives absorb and activate the Arc energy he deposited into them. He had absolutely nothing left. As he fell into the blood and dust at the feet of the Arkhon, he only faintly heard voices calling out for him...


End file.
